


Keep Breathing If You Can (I Believe In You)

by rainydaybooks



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Unrequited Love, very short mention of Zarry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydaybooks/pseuds/rainydaybooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has been in love with Louis for as long as he can remember, but Louis never showed any interest. Harry has always been fine with that, hiding his feelings to maintain their friendship, but when loosing Louis forever becomes a very likely possibility, he has to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First chaptered fic. Based on this prompt: "could you do a larry one where louis receives news he has cancer? cue the tears lots and lots of tears but in the end he's okay but just can you make it long-ish?"  
> I obviously changed it, but I hope you'll like it.
> 
> also posted on my [tumblr](http://chazpels.tumblr.com)
> 
> Title taken from Sacred by Tokio Hotel

The rain sounded different here than it had at home. And Harry Styles, at the young age of five years, knew how rain sounded, because he had experienced loads of it. Holmes Chapel rain had been boring, Harry thought, it had sounded muddy and plain when it hit the grassy ground around their house.

The rain in Doncaster was a completely different story though. It wove a melody around him, the different sounds of rain on the street, the roof, the gutter, the neighbours’ cars, the swing set in their yard. He wanted to go outside and play in the rain, try to catch the drops before they fell to the ground, but he didn’t feel like going outside alone. Unfortunately, when he had moved here with his mum Anne and his sister Gemma they hadn’t taken Brandon, the kid that had lived next to them in Holmes Chapel and was Harry’s best friend, with them, and now Harry was alone and bored.

They had left Harry’s dad, too, for reasons he wasn’t quite sure he understood, but it prob-ably had to do with all of the yelling his parents had been doing lately. And maybe even with Robin, the man that had helped them move and had carried all of his mum’s bags for her. Harry had suggested getting an elephant (because they were his favourite animals at the moment) now that they had more room without his dad, but his mum had bought a cat instead. Even though it was not as cool, it was better than being stuck with nothing but an older sister.

So there he was, sitting on the window sill of his new room, looking out in his new yard, and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. That question was answered for him when someone rung the bell. Harry raced downstairs, keen on seeing the very first visitor in their new house himself, and managed to get to the door just as his mother opened it. Outside there was a woman who introduced herself as Jay, carrying a baby and a basket which seemed to contain some food. 

The woman wasn’t what got Harry’s attention though. It was the boy standing next to her. A bit taller than himself, he was probably a few years older than Harry and when the boy caught his eyes and smiled at him, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, he knew he was gone. 

The boy’s name was Louis, Harry learned over their mothers having tea with each other, and he was his neighbour. Louis was seven years old and therefore would go to Junior School the next year, which made him somewhat of a hero to Harry, who’d never had friends that old before. Also Louis said he was aces at football and was going to be a famous player one day. Harry didn’t know what he was going to be when he was older yet, but Louis told him not to worry, he was still young and had time and he’d surely figure it out when he was as old as Louis himself.

When they had both finished their respective cup of tea and bribed Harry’s mum into giv-ing them two cookies each, they were bored. All of Harry’s games and toys were still packed in boxes and he was a bit embarrassed that he had nothing cool to offer to his new friend, but Louis didn’t seem to mind. All it took was a few minutes to convince his mum she could trust them going to Louis’ house by themselves to play, and now they were running through the rain, trying to get there before soaking to their underwear. 

They spent the day indulging in sweets Louis’ mum had unsuccessfully tried to hide from her son, watching shows on the telly Harry’s mum would have a heart attack over if she knew what they were doing, and generally doing whatever they wanted to. At first Harry felt uncomfortable, because he never really did anything his mum wouldn’t approve of, but he soon realized that it was far easier agreeing to everything Louis proposed and feeling slightly guilty about it than it was to deny him. 

He was just throwing away candy wrappers (Harry had had a rather hard time convincing Louis that they should clean up their mess) when their mums came in, Louis’ mum still carrying the baby that was Louis’ baby sister Lottie, as Harry had learned. 

Both women were smiling; Harry assumed he wasn’t the only one who’d found a new friend today.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go home, Robin’s coming over to help us unpack the boxes,” Anne called out to her son who was currently pretending she wasn’t there, in hope of a) avoiding to help and b) getting to spend some more time with Louis. So instead of turning around and walking back downstairs, he ran into Louis’ bedroom and threw himself down on the bed next to him. Before leaving he needed to be sure of something.

“Louis?” he asked, looking up at the taller boy. Louis grinned down at him, blue eyes sparkling and cheeks slightly flushed from the hours spent laughing. There was a bit of chocolate in the corner of his mouth and Harry couldn’t help the smile that dimpled his cheeks.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Are we best friends now?”

Louis let out a laugh and tugged on a strand of Harry’s silky hair playfully. 

“Of course we are.”

***

And best friends were what they became. 

The remainder of the summer break was spent in either one of their houses (Harry would eternally be grateful for the swing set in his yard; it made it very easy to forget everything he missed about Holmes Chapel. Well, that and Louis, of course) or Louis showing him all the great places to go in Doncaster. Mostly playgrounds and football fields, because there really weren’t that many exciting places to go to, but Louis managed to make every day an adventure. Harry had never been happier in his life. 

Soon enough though summer was over and they didn’t have all day to play anymore. The weekends belonged to each other though, and so did the afternoons. 

Harry missed Holmes Chapel; mainly he missed his dad. But he had his mum and Gemma and Robin who basically lived with them by now, and most importantly, he had Louis. Maybe not most importantly, but, like, equally as important. He had never experienced a friendship similar to the one he shared with the older boy. Louis seemed to have a sixths sense for knowing when Harry needed him. 

When Harry had come home from kindergarten, crying because some boys picked on him for singing all day, Louis had been waiting for him at his front door with opened arms and Harry’s favourite chocolate. 

After two years at Doncaster had passed and Harry could finally go to Junior School with Louis, the older boy had shown Harry around the entire school, explaining him everything important about each of the teachers and introducing him to all of his friends, even though seven year old Harry was practically a baby for the boys. When one of the boys, a loud Irish lad named Niall, dared to say so Louis shoved him away from Harry and told him to bugger off, because Harry was his best friend and everyone who wanted to be friends with Louis had to accept that. 

Harry was the first one Louis told about getting another sister, and few years later, two more, and Harry always helped Louis to watch over them when Jay was at work. 

When 14-years-old Harry first asked a girl he thought he really liked out and she stood him up, Louis sent his own girlfriend home and instead of doing whatever these two would have done alone spent the day playing Xbox and cuddling with Harry until the younger boy had all but forgotten about his short infatuation with the girl. 

Only a few weeks later, on Niall’s sixteenths birthday, Louis held Harry’s hair back as the younger boy threw up all of his first alcohol and woke him up the next morning with a couple of Aspirins and hangover-curing fry-up. 

*** 

It was the relentless pounding in his head that woke him up the morning after his own sweet sixteen. He felt sticky with sweat, his mouth tasted as if something had died in there and it was too damn hot in this room. Carefully cracking open one eye, the reason became evident: he wasn’t alone in his bed. 

Harry pressed his eyes closed again with horror. He didn’t remember last night all that well. 

He recalled Louis coming over before the party started with a bottle of champagne that they had shared while blowing up some balloons. He remembered Niall helping them set up a bar and proving his bar-tending-qualities by making them all Jägerbombs. The house filling up with more and more people, most of which he barely knew. Louis pulling him on the makeshift dance floor in his living room. An endless supply of shots pressed into his hands. Louis chatting up an equally endless supply of pretty girls. Zayn next to him, joking and dancing. Louis pressed against one of the girls, his tongue shoved down her throat, her legs around his waist and her skirt hitched up and his hands shamelessly groping her boobs. Zayn smiling at him and leaning in close, closer, biting his lip. 

The taste of Zayn’s lips on his, like alcohol, smoke and stupid recklessness, was the last thing Harry remembered. And now there was someone in his bed. Fuck, had he actually slept with Zayn and couldn’t even remember? 

In an attempt to a) calm the monster that was currently tearing his head apart from the in-side and b) bring up any more memories of last night, anything that’d explain the fact that he wasn’t alone in his bed, Harry turned on his back and began massaging his temples. 

His elbow hit the person’s head and caused it to groan. Shit. When he heard Person shuffling beside him, he discreetly peeked through his fingers and nearly fell out of his bed in shock. Person beside him wasn’t Zayn. 

It was Louis. 

And apparently Louis was waking up now, judging by the shuffling sounds. Harry con-templated pretending to still be asleep, or, even better, dead, but Louis had already noticed that he was awake, greeting him with his usual “Morning, princess.” 

The younger boy opened his eyes and stared up at Louis. There was a huge, purple bruise on Louis’ throat, and another one on his exposed collarbone. Harry’s mind backtracked that sentence. He could see Louis’ collarbone. Another glance at his friend (if they still were friends, that is) confirmed his assumption. Louis was shirtless. Shitshitshit. 

It wasn’t Zayn he’d had sex with. It was Louis. Sex with Louis, that didn’t sound half-bad in principle. Drunken sex with Louis that he couldn’t even remember however was a different story. 

When Harry had imagined them having sex (which had happened more times than he cared to admit over the last few months), it was perfect, both of them driven by love, not alcohol-corrupted lust. Now he’d ruined this, and possibly ruined their friendship along the way. 

“Harry? What’s wrong? Are you gonna be sick?” Louis’ worried voice yanked Harry out of his thoughts. And now that Louis had asked, a wave of nausea hit him full force. “Shit,” Louis said, helping him to the toilet just in time for Harry to collapse in front of it and throw up all of last night’s alcohol. Louis made quiet soothing sounds and held his hair back, while Harry heaved over the bowl, tears stinging in his eyes from the acidic taste in his mouth. 

After he finally stopped retching and had brushed his teeth, he sat down on his bed and hid his face in his hands. There were still tears threatening to spill, but now it wasn’t because of his heavy intoxication of the last night. Well, figuratively speaking, it was. 

He felt the bed dip as Louis kneeled down next to him. “You feeling good enough for a nice, hangover curing fry-up now?” Louis asked, as he put his arm around Harry’s shoulder. Harry just hunched over more. 

“I’m so sorry, Louis,” he whispered, nearly choking on the lump in his throat. “I’m... I don’t know, I was so drunk, and I don’t even remember what hap-pened, but I know I was with… I was kissing Zayn and you were kissing Alicia and now… you… I-“ 

“Harry,” Louis interrupted him with a fond expression, “if this is about you kissing Zayn, I don’t care. Really, it doesn’t matter to me whether you’re kissing boys or girls, I don’t care. Don’t worry.” 

Well, now Harry was just confused. “What… why are you here? We… we didn’t… you and I… just what the hell happened last night?” he sputtered, eyes wide, flicking from Louis’ eyes to his bruised throat and collarbone and back. 

Louis’ expression changed from worry to confusion to shock to amusement faster than Harry could keep up with, but suddenly Louis was collapsing with laughter besides him. “Oh God, Harry! You really thought we had sex?” he wheezed, his eyes tearing up. 

The boy causing his amusement flushed so deep red that he could feel the room heating up several degrees from his hot cheeks. “Why are you here then?” he snapped, the hurt painfully evident in his voice. 

That stopped Louis’ laughing immediately. “Harry, I’m sorry. It’s just… you actually thought I’d sleep with you? You’re my best friend, Haz, I would never risk that. You’re way too important to me to ever fool around with you like that. And… I’m not gay, you know that, right? I mean, I may not be _completely_ straight, but I like boobs. A lot, right. You were so drunk last night, you would’ve passed out on me anyway. I just brought you home, because you were too shit-faced to stand upright and I didn’t wanna risk you choking in your sleep.” 

His words were meant to comfort, Harry knew that. But the complete incredulousness in his voice at the thought of sleeping with him, the conviction when he said he wouldn’t ever be anything other than a friend, it cut deeper than he’d expected. Well, he’d never really expected this conversation with Louis. He had been okay hiding whatever feelings he had for his best friend for as long as he could remember and he would just continue on like that for however long it’d take him to get over his stupid crush. “Yeah, uhm… sorry for thinking that. I know you’re not gay, I just...” I just hoped you were, he thought, but that was something Louis didn’t ever need to know. 

Louis started rubbing circles on his back, tightening his hold around Harry’s shoulders. “No need to be sorry. With a hangover like you’re due to have after that night, I wouldn’t wonder if you’d think you slept with Obama. While we’re talking about potential boys to sleep with: what’s going on with you and Malik? He is rather handsome with those eyelashes, his cheekbones must have been sculpted by God himself and he did seem to be pretty into you, don’t you think? Want a piece of that Pakistani ass?” he asked with an obnoxious waggle of his eyebrows, absolutely oblivious to the fact that Harry didn’t want to talk about Zayn. 

To be honest, he didn’t really want to talk about anything, much less with Louis. He needed to be away from Louis for a few hours (or maybe years, a pessimistic but frighteningly realistic little voice remarked) to forget about his infatuation and go back to being best friends with Louis, and being happy with that just like he always had been. 

He realized that he still hadn’t replied to Louis’ question, and a little belatedly said, “Uhm, no, I don’t think so, we’re just friend, I guess? It was a one-time thing, he probably wouldn’t want more.” Louis just smirked like he knew something Harry didn’t, but Harry chose to ignore it and went on, “I’ll go ahead and take a shower, thanks for, like, helping me last night. At the party and afterwards, too, I guess.” 

He offered Louis a weak smile and made to stand up from his position on the bed, but Louis dragged him back down, hugging him close. “You’re like my little brother, Haz. That won’t ever change, no matter who you choose to kiss. I love you, yeah? Always.” 

Harry felt the damn tears stinging in his eyes again. He blinked, willing them away. He had embarrassed himself enough in front of Louis for one day. 

“Love you, too, Lou,” he whispered, hoping that Louis wouldn’t hear the shattering of his heart. 

*** 

Harry told himself he would get over Louis. 

Just a couple of days, or weeks maybe, getting pissed with Niall and Zayn, who turned out to be a really great mate after all, and his crush would be forgotten. 

But it was a few weeks later and he had gotten drunk with Niall and Zayn several times, and when Louis told him about dating this girl, or making out with some fit guy in a club, it still felt like his heart broke into a million pieces. Eventually he had to admit, at least to him-self, that it wasn’t just a crush or an infatuation. 

He was in love with Louis, and he had no clue what to do about it. 

When Louis announced that he would go away to London to study Drama, Harry was almost glad that he’d be gone. Don’t get him wrong, he’d miss Louis more than anything, but he harboured a small hope that he’d forget about his feelings for him with some distance between them. 

And for the two years that Louis was in London and Harry in Doncaster, he could pretend he was over him. He could kiss some stranger in a club and pretend he didn’t think about how much softer Louis hair always felt in his hands, how much sweeter Louis smelled. He could go home with a stranger and pretend Louis wasn’t the reason he always backed out in the end. 

But when he called Louis to tell him he would start Uni in London after the summer and he agreed without thinking twice to Louis' qustion if he wanted to move in with him , he couldn’t pretend anymore. 

He was just as in love with Louis as he had been two years before.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry couldn’t sleep.

He’d moved in with Louis a few weeks ago and he felt as if he hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep since. London was so loud, even at night, something he had yet to get used to. 

Louis’ flat, or rather their flat what with him paying half the rent, was just a few blocks away from Uni, and the area was crowded with students at literally all hours of the day. There was yelling and shouting, and there were lights from the shops, and there was traffic. There were sirens and laughter and crying and just so much _life_ outside and Harry just wasn’t used to it at all.

And then of course there was Louis. Harry wasn’t used to being around him all the time anymore either. He was happy to have his best friend back. Because despite his stupid crush, that’s what Louis was to him and he loved being able to spend so much time with him again. He had gotten pretty good at pretending nothing was wrong after all. 

But sometimes he would slip. Like when Louis brought him breakfast to bed the first morning to celebrate his new life in London (it was McDonald’s because Louis still couldn’t cook for shit, but it’s the gesture that counts, okay) and then cuddled into his side and fell asleep with his head on Harry’s pounding heart. Or when he took him sightseeing, showed him all his favourite places in the city and then took him to a small pub, because he insisted on getting Harry drunk so to properly ring in his student-life, and then practically carried him back to their flat, Harry half unconscious on his side. Or when he introduced him to his best mate from Uni (“Only best London-friend, Haz, you’ll always be my Number One.”) Liam, a boy who looked more puppy than human, and kept his arm firmly around Harry’s waist, almost possessive. 

So here he was now, staring at the neon signs of the 24-hours shop opposite of the flat and trying to get his brain to shut up. He groaned when he glanced at the clock on his bedside table; it was 3:37am, which meant he had class in less than five hours. Cringing as his bare feet hit the cold floor he got out of bed and shuffled in the kitchen to get a glass of water. He cursed quietly when he stumbled over a pair of shoes on his way, hoping he hadn’t woken Louis; despite being an amazing friend, Louis was insufferable if he didn’t get his sleep. 

As it turned out, he didn’t have to bother, because Louis was already up, sitting in the dark kitchen with a mug of tea in front of him, looking miserable. He looked up to Harry with bleary eyes when he heard him step into the room. He gave a weak “Cheers” and dropped his head back in his hands. 

”Are you alright?” Harry asked, worried at his friend’s expression. 

Louis nodded and made some kind of affirmative grunt behind his hands. “Couldn’t sleep. ’s nothing.” He mumbled. “You want a cuppa?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix one for me.” Harry said, ruffling Louis’ hair in passing. After he poured the steaming hot water in his favourite cup (it looked like a cat with the tail as its handle- Harry had given up on trying to be anything but the giant dork he was) he said down next to Louis and leant his head on his best friend’s shoulder. 

“Class tomorrow’s gonna kill me” he mumbled into Louis’ shirt, nuzzling his face in the soft flesh of his throat a little cosier. 

Louis hummed while combing through Harry’s hair absentmindedly. “Go to bed, Haz. No need to give me company I’m fine.” 

Harry snorted. “You really think I’d stay up all night just for you? Can’t sleep, you wanker.” He would without thinking twice, but that wasn’t the point right now. 

He could practically feel the worried frown on Louis’ face at his words. Louis always did that; he worried. He had always been the older brother, had helped his mum with raising his sisters after his father had left them. He had always taken care of Harry as well, got a Band-Aid for his scraped knees, a tea for his cold and a tight hug for the cruel words directed at him after his coming out. 

Harry looked up and sure enough the older boy was looking down at him with worry in his tired eyes. “Are you okay though? Do you miss home? Maybe we should go, for the weekend, if you do.” He was still running his hands through Harry’s curls, untangling the strands that were ruffled from the tossing and turning earlier. His eyes were bloodshot and he had dark bruises underneath. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, yet it was Harry he was worried about, not himself. 

Harry thought for a moment what it would be like to tell his friend the truth. That having him around again was like a constant weight on his heart, pulling him underwater and filling his lungs with an ever-present need for _LouisLouisLouis_ , wanting him around all the time, get all of his attention but needing to put distance between them to breathe again. 

What he said was something else, but no less true. “I’m fine, Lou. It’s just, you know, London is so different. I’m glad to be here, I just miss my mum and Niall and Zayn. Haven’t really made friends for myself here yet.” 

Louis arms tightened around him instantly. “You got me, right? You’ll always have me.” And suddenly Harry struggled to breathe around the lump in his throat. He squeezed his arms tightly around his best friend’s waist and counted to ten in his head to calm himself down, then let go and sat up straight again. “Yeah, I’ll always have you.”

*** 

When Harry’s alarm went off the next morning he opened his eyes and looked directly into Louis’ blearily blinking ones. “Turn this thing off, Hazza, please,” he groaned into his pillow. Harry obeyed and reached for his phone at the nightstand. Louis appeared to have gone back to sleep already, but when Harry made a move to get out of bed the older boy grabbed his hand and pulled him back in. “Stay here,” he mumbled, looking up at Harry with squinty eyes. 

“I’ve got class, Lou, I need to g-“ 

Louis tugged on his hand again, yanked him in the bed and the younger boy tumbled over, falling down on top of his friend in a mess of long limbs and wild bed hair. Latching onto him like an octopus Louis brought his mouth to Harry’s ear and whispered, “Stay, Harry.” 

Harry had always been bad in denying people, especially Louis. And right now Louis was pressing up against him, his legs around Harry’s, his arms tightly wrapped around his torso and his mouth pressing little kisses around his ear. Harry didn’t stand the slightest chance and he knew that just as well as Louis did. 

So he just gave up, letting his body go lose and pliant he fell completely boneless onto Louis who let out a squeal of protest and licked Harry’s ear in revenge. Harry giggled and rolled them around so they were lying on their sides, facing each other, their legs tangled and their noses almost touching. 

Louis smiled lazily at his best friend. “Hi,” he whispered, voice still sleep rough, and started scratching Harry’s scalp. The younger boy untangled his legs from Louis’ and blushed; Louis’ morning voice and his hair were his weaknesses and this was not the moment for an awkward boner. When Louis frowned, he scooted closer again, careful that their lower halves weren’t touching, and rested his head on his friend’s chest. 

“Did you mean it last night?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling and just barely refraining from purring at Louis’ ministrations. 

“What do you mean?” the older boy asked, stopping in his scratching until Harry whined and he continued with a grin that Harry could feel rather than see. 

“About wanting to go home for the weekend. I’d like to, if you wanna.” 

Louis hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think I do wanna go home. Feels like I haven’t been in forever.” 

“That’s because you _haven’t_. You never visited me while I was still there.” He knew he sounded pathetic and clingy but it was true and it had hurt and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“That’s not true! I was there for Christmas every year and I came for a few weeks last summer.” Louis huffed and tugged on a curl. 

“Ten days, Lou, that’s not a few weeks.” 

Louis was quiet for a few seconds, then squeezed Harry’s shoulder with the hand that wasn’t buried in his hair and said softly, “I’m sorry, Haz. But you’re here now, eh? That’s alright, innit?” 

Harry hummed in response, his eyes slipping shut again. Yeah, it was alright. 

***

That weekend they drove to Doncaster. Liam was coming down with them, because his flat’s plumbing system broke and he had to get out of there for the weekend. Harry had had no objections when Louis had asked him if he was okay with that arrangement; he and Liam had clicked the instant they had met and he liked spending time with the Wolverhampton boy. Also, Liam’s driving skills were much better than Louis’ and his combined, so there was that as well. 

Louis slept through most of the three hour drive on the backseat (“Because you’re tiny, Lou, don’t want you to slip through the seatbelt,” Liam had said with a smirk, and Harry laughed at his disgruntled face for the better part of the way) while Harry and Liam were discussing everything ranking from music and books over their studies to favourite superheroes up front. 

They arrived in the early afternoons and were greeted by Louis’ twin sisters as soon as the house was within sight. Their delighted squeals woke up Louis as they climbed into the car and on their brother, giggling madly at his obvious confusion of waking up in the car. Once he realised who was sitting on top of him he hugged the twins until they claimed he was choking them. 

When the girls had entangled themselves from Louis and all five of them were finally out of the car, the boys grabbing their bags from the trunk and Daisy and Phoebe jumping in circles around them, the door to Louis’ house opened and revealed his mother standing in the doorway, ushering them inside with a spatula in her hand. Harry thought he really ought to go to his house first but Louis was grabbing his wrist and pulling him with him, so it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. 

Jay hugged he son hard immediately after he’d put his bags down and when she saw Harry longingly looking out of the window, she hugged him as well and the said, “Your mum’s in the kitchen, go on love.” at the same time as he heard Anne’s voice calling “Come over here, Harry, I can’t leave these steaks alone!” 

He gave Liam, who patted a bit awkwardly at Jay’s back as she hugged him as well, a reassuring smile before jogging off to the kitchen where his mum stood at the stove. She turned around just in time to see him drop his backs and the he was already at her side, wrapping his arms around her. Her head fit into the crook of his neck comfortably as she was almost a head shorter than he was but still he felt small and save in her arms like nowhere else. 

He could hear Charlotte and Felicity running down the stairs and Louis’ screams, excited at first and the appalled as he discovered make-up on his oldest sister’s face. He heard how Louis introduced Liam to them, heard him asking after Zayn and Niall who had promised to show up during the day, heard him chasing around his sisters. But with his mother hugging him tightly, for the first time in days, it felt like he could get over it. Like he could finally breathe again. 

***

Anne and Jay had cooked a feast; if being home hadn’t shown Harry how much he’d missed it and that he definitely had to come more often, the food would have convinced him. 

The Tomlinson household was loud, messy and lovely as it always had been. The twins were stealing food off each other’s plates until Phoebe had enough and started yelling at her sister who gave as good as she got. Jay had to violently remove the phone from Felicity’s hands to get her to stop texting and Charlotte was sulking on her chair as if personally offended by her family’s childish behaviour. Louis, who had sat himself between his youngest sisters to stop them from killing each other, was grinning from ear to ear at the mess around him. 

Harry himself was happy to just watch, occasionally joking with one of the girls or answer his mum’s questions. He was sitting next to Liam who looked extremely lost amidst the noise of the Tomlinsons and was discreetly filling him in on the names and relations between the family members. 

Once they had eaten and Harry felt as if he was about to burst, Jay asked Louis and him to do the washing up. Liam offered to help as well, but Jay was having none of it, telling him he was a guest and could just go relax in the living room. At Harry’s affronted “I’m a guest!”, she merely gave him a very pointed look, eyebrows raised so high they almost touched her hairline, and Harry sauntered off to the kitchen with a pout. 

When the table was cleared and there were only some dishes left to wash, Louis bumped his hip into Harry’s skinny ones. “Hey,” he said, smiling up at the younger boy who was up to his elbows in dishwater. 

It was one of his really happy smiles, where his eyes got all crinkly and shining. He looked relaxed and content, yet Harry felt as if something was wrong. There were dark bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days, but Harry knew that wasn’t true, since they had fallen asleep on the couch together the previous night and stumbled into Harry’s bed around 2 am. 

Louis looked at him quizzically when he didn’t say anything for too long and Harry shook his head to clear it. “Hi,” he said through a smile and smeared some soap bubbles on his friend’s nose. 

Louis squeaked and smacked Harry across the bum with his towel. The younger boy laughed and scooped up more bubbles from the water, trying to get to Louis’ hair with his soapy hands and ending up shaking off the bubbles all over Louis and the kitchen floor. Clumsy as he was he promptly slipped in his self-created mess and, falling down, banged his head on the counter. Louis was laughing so much that he promptly followed his friend to the floor and for a few seconds they just sat there in a puddle of soap water, staring at each other before they cracked and started laughing. And once they’d started, they couldn’t seem to stop, laughing and laughing until they were crying from it and their bellies hurt. 

Harry didn’t know how, but at some point they stopped laughing and Louis crawled in his lap, gazing at him through his eyelashes with a soft smile. He just looked so lovely in that moment, so damn _beautiful_ , it punched the air right out of his chest and all Harry was left to do was stare. 

He’d been waiting for a moment, and he was pretty sure this was one, because it was perfect, they were at home and happy and giggly, and he was just starting to lean in, his hand softly against Louis’ cheek, when it was ruined by a loud bang and an even louder Irish voice saying “Fuck.” 

Harry loved Niall, he really did, but in that moment, he really wished he didn’t exist. Or at least existed somewhere else than here. 

***

“Man, I haven’t been here in ages,” Louis said when they entered the local pub where Harry, Louis, Zayn, and Niall had spent the better part of their teen years together. Tom, the owner, greeted Niall like an old friend, which he probably was. Niall was the only one of them that still lived in Doncaster. He was working in a small coffee shop not far from their old school and on weekends, he sang at the pub. He was saving all his money to fly to New York where he hoped to make it big. 

Zayn went to University in Manchester where he studied Literature and something else, but Harry always forgot. He spent most of the time he was not in lectures holed up in his apartment with a notebook and a cigarette, writing poems and short stories. He had told Harry he was working on a book, but never showed him any of it, because for all his bad boy act, he was scared shitless of not being good enough. 

Liam fit in the group perfectly. Niall was drilling him with questions about his New York holiday he’d been on the summer before and laughing at every single anecdote he told him like it was the greatest thing he’d ever heard. When he heard that Liam was studying Music and liked to sing he was dragging him on stage that instant. 

“Zayn, you’re drooling,” Harry quipped as soon as the two boys were out of earshot. 

“Shut up, Haz.” Zayn didn’t even bother to look at him, just continued to gaze at Liam where he stood awkwardly staring at the ground as Niall talked to Tom. 

Louis and Harry laughed at his starstruck face until Liam and Niall took the stage. “Hi, I’m Niall and most of you probably know me, because I practically live here. Today I’m not alone. This is Liam, everyone, and he’s new so play nice,” Niall said into the mic, pointing at a blushing Liam behind him and Zayn sighed. 

Harry was about to make another comment, but Louis hushed him with a kick to the ankle as Niall had started to play. They all had heard Niall countless times, and he was really good. But Liam was something else. His voice was crystal clear, he hit every note with absolute accuracy. They were singing Use Somebody, and Harry wasn’t a big fan of the song, yet Goosebumps broke out at their version. Liam’s deep voice blended in perfectly with Niall’s unique edge and together they created something new, something so beautiful, one would think they had been singing together for years. 

They played a few more songs, all well known, and Liam lost all of his initial insecurity. When they got back to their table later, they were both red-faced and laughing, and Liam plopped down so close to Zayn he might as well be sitting on his lap. Niall had no such restrictions; he sprawled out on top of Harry and Louis with a huge, satisfied grin on his face and demanded to be given a pint as payment for being the entertainment of the night. 

***

They left the pub at 2:30 in the morning, buzzed with alcohol and the happiness of seeing each other again. Zayn was staying at Niall’s while the rest of them headed back to Louis’ house. Liam kissed Zayn’s cheek for good-bye and the self-proclaimed bad boy blushed so brightly that it was visible even in the dark. 

Harry was still giggling when they reached the house and Louis slapped his hand across his mouth to get him to shut up, so they wouldn’t wake his family. 

The way upstairs to Louis’ room was achieved without major accidents, Liam staying downstairs in the guest room, and the other boys fell into bed without bothering to change first. Harry drew Louis in and curled around his smaller frame, his arms firmly around his middle. 

“I’m really glad to be here,” he said into his friend’s hair, squeezing him a little tighter. 

Louis shuffled the tiniest bit closer into his chest, grabbing hold of one of his hands. “Yeah, me, too.” 

***

Waking up to Louis’ hair tickling his nose and Louis’ tiny hands in his much larger ones was probably Harry’s favourite thing in the world. The sensation was somewhat diminished by the furry taste of a slight hangover in his mouth, though, and Harry groaned as he blinked against the much too bright sunlight that was streaming through the blinds. He made to get out of bed, but Louis held onto his hands tightly. “Where do you think you’re going?” he mumbled groggily. 

“Lou, let me go, I gotta piss,” he answered. He tried for grumpy, but failed miserably. 

“You suck,” Louis informed him as he loosened his grip. Harry snorted and went to the bathroom. 

Harry was just helping Jay set the table for breakfast when Louis came downstairs, in nothing but his sweats. Harry gulped. Jay gasped. 

Harry looked up and saw her gaping at her son. Louis watched her puzzled as she walked up to him and turned him around so she could see his back. “Where did you get these, Lou?” she asked, her eyes wide and her voice a weird mix of worried and accusing. When Harry saw what she pointed at, he gasped as well. Along Louis spine there was a splattering of angry, dark purple bruises. 

The older boy still looked confused as to what the fuzz was about and angled his body so that he could see his back’s reflection in the window. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. 

Harry abandoned the eggs he had been cooking and stepped closer to his friend as well. He ran his finger over the bruises gently. Up close, he saw that the ones along his spine weren’t the only ones; there were others, fainter, at his ribcage, at his hips. 

“Louis, what is this?” he whispered. He would be worried that the other boy had been beaten, but the bruises didn’t look like that kind. They seemed to come from within rather than the outside. 

Louis turned around then and his face was white. “I- I don’t know, Haz, I have no fucking clue, I didn’t do anything, I _don’t know._ ” 

Jay pulled him into her arms then, and Louis went gratefully, boneless. “We’ll have breakfast first, okay? It’s probably nothing, nothing bad, maybe you just fell or something, no need to worry, dear.” She was just babbling and they all knew it, but Louis was nodding nonetheless, taking a deep breath before letting go of his mother and putting on a smile. 

“Go on, then Hazza, finish those eggs, I’m starving.” 

His façade convinced neither Jay nor Harry, but they both played along for his sake. Because they all had the same suspicion, and cold fear was creeping down Harry’s neck when he thought of it. 

They had breakfast and it was loud and messy and lovely as everything in this house, but Harry felt like he was in glass bubble, secluded from the rest of the household, even his mum who was having breakfast with them. 

And the only thing in this bubble was fear and a constant prayer of _Please let this be something else, not cancer, please not cancer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't know if this makes sense, I'm just going after My Sister's Keeper, because Kate has bruises. Sorry if this is stupid and irrealistic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i did it, i wrote the next chapter. i am incredibly sorry, there is literally no excuse for how ridiculously long it took me. i hope you can forgive me and will still read this and like this and if you want to you can bollock me as much as you want [here](http://chazpels.tumblr.com/faqask)

„What do you reckon this colour is called, Hazza? Puke-green? Troll boogies? You think they were inspired by Harry Potter?”

Harry gave an uncommitted hum and tightened his hold on Louis’ hand. They were clammy and sweaty, but that could be him as well as the older boy. They were both nervous and more scared than either of them would like to admit. Louis kept rambling on about everything and anything; the nurse’s hair colour, the bad acne of the receptionist, and now the colour of the walls, which were indeed quite ugly. 

But that was Louis in a nutshell. When he was nervous, he covered it up by laughing that bit louder, being that bit funnier (or more annoying, if you asked any of his teachers), smiling that bit brighter. He never admitted to weaknesses and he didn’t let people in. 

Watching the blur of Louis’ leg moving up and down Harry felt drowned under a sudden wave of love and affection for him and for a moment, it felt hard to breathe. He was beautiful, even with his hands clammy and his face sweaty from the fear, and Harry hated everything about this situation. Louis was _young_ , just in Uni, just about to start his life. His greatest fears should be whether or not he’d pass the next exam with a hangover or if he was gonna get laid that night, not whether the Chemo would work for him. At the age of twenty, he shouldn’t have to worry if he was gonna make it to his next birthday. 

If there was any way for Harry to take this from him, he thought, he would take it in a heartbeat. 

Harry’s nerves showed in another way. He withdrew into himself, got quiet and blended everything out to get lost in his thoughts. Louis’ babbling washed by him, grazed his ears and blocked any other sounds out without actually reaching him. The only things clear were his own fear and Louis’ hand in his, so much smaller, so much more fragile. 

When they had been little, Louis had always taken care of Harry, protective of his younger friend like a lioness of her cub. Although that had never changed altogether, their roles had become less clear as they grew up. By now, Harry was almost a head taller than Louis was, and not only in size, but also in maturity. 

Where Louis nowadays seemed to be floating through his life with no destination, Harry was sure of himself, knew who he was and where he was going, and he worked hard for everything he had. Louis, despite his loud and outgoing character, was nothing like that and even though he would never say that himself, Harry knew that Louis needed someone solid in his life. He was more than happy to be that for him. 

Both boys startled when Louis’ name was called. Louis’ grip on Harry’s hand was like a vice and Harry was clinging on the other boy just as firmly, despite his fingers having gone numb what felt like hours ago. 

They were led into a small room, containing nothing but a bed and an IV bag hung up next to it. At least this room wasn’t puke-coloured, though. 

The nurse gestured for Louis to lie down on the bed. Louis complied with some difficulties, as he was still holding Harry’s had, but the managed. The nurse (Angela, Angelique? Harry couldn’t remember and felt slightly guilty for it, but then he saw Louis’ ash-white face and remembered that there was a reason he was distracted) looked at Harry with a small, pitiful smile as she sat down next to Louis and explained the procedure to him. 

Louis’ mouth was pressed into a thin line and his eyes were wandering around the room, looking everywhere but at Harry. He was clearly not listening, yet he nodded to every word she said. When she took the needle in her hand and fastened a rubber band around his upper arm, he took a sharp breath and turned his face towards the small window, determinately not looking at what the nurse was doing while she stuck the needle in his arm. 

Harry however couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere but the nurse’s (Angelique, definitely Angelique) hand and he didn’t quite manage to refrain from gasping as a bit of blood tainted the clear medication in the tube. 

With a gentle tap on the needle in Louis’ arm, Angelique exited the room and left the two boys in complete silence, interrupted only by the steady dropping of the IV. Harry watched the back of Louis’ head patiently, knowing that trying to get him to talk would be of no use. With the certainty that he would say something whenever he was ready, Harry settled in the armchair comfortably, pulled a book on Henri Matisse’s early works out of his bag and opened it to the page he had stopped on the prior night. He had an exam coming up in Art History next week and he had still more than 200 pages left to read, highlight and commit to memory. 

More than enough to keep him busy until Louis was finished staring at the wall. 

***

In the end, it took Louis 68 pages until he spoke up. 

He sighed quietly and turned around to finally look at Harry who had looked up at the sigh. He looked drained, as if for the last almost two hours he had been running a marathon, not lying in a hospital bed. His face was ashen and his lips bitten raw. Harry wanted nothing more than to grab him, hold him close and never let go. 

Instead he scooted his chair a fraction closer and put his hand on the bed. Louis looked at it warily as if it was going to bite him, but the he shook his head and took it with a small smile. 

He coughed and looked at some point above Harry’s right shoulder as he whispered, “Thank you.” 

***

They stayed at the hospital for far longer than Harry had expected. When they finally got back to the flat hours later Louis was tired and cranky. 

Harry was in the kitchen fixing some omelette for dinner (at Louis’ request), when Louis came in complaining about the smell making him feel even shittier than he did anyways. When Harry brought him a cup of tea to the couch, he said it was too weak and he might as well drink dishwater. He then went on complaining about the TV program, the weather, the neighbours and the Queen’s hairstyle. 

Harry only sighed and drank the cup himself while fixing another one under his friend’s watchful eye, ignoring the running commentary and jabs at his cooking skills with a patience he had built up in the years of being friends with Louis. As much as he loved the other boy, he could be a pain in the ass sometimes. Or more than sometimes, actually. Quite often, if he thought about it, but he avoided that line of thinking. 

When the tea was finally done to Louis’ liking and Harry had fixed supper for himself, they turned on _Friends_ and cuddled up on the couch together. Louis was fast asleep before he’d even finished his tea and Harry was left with silky hair in his face and small hands tightly curled into his shirt. 

Louis smelled like the hospital, like nerves and a bit sweaty as well; Harry thought the sticky hair tickling his nose should probably disgust him, but it really didn’t. It was kind of nice actually, in a weird way, because underneath the chemical scent of disinfectant, there was the smell of _Louis_ , the smell of friendship and trust and love. So instead of waking him up to get him into bed, Harry pulled Louis tighter against him and allowed himself this moment, relaxing for the first time that day to the sound of Louis’ quiet snuffles. 

Louis woke up near the end of the second episode and stifled a yawn into Harry’s neck. Harry tried, and failed, to suppress a shiver as the warmth of Louis’ breath travelled over his skin. 

”I think it’s time for bed,” he murmured into the older boy’s hair, once he was sure that he had his voice under control. 

Louis’ answer was muffled by Harry’s skin, but Harry didn’t wait for Louis to confirm his tiredness anyways; he’d know the boy long enough that he would never admit to it. Sometimes he really wondered how on earth Louis was the elder in this relation-, no, friendship. 

With one hand under his knees and the other holding up Louis’ upper body, he scooped him off the couch and carried him into his bedroom bridal style, ignoring his squeals of protest. He lay his friend down onto his bed gently and arranged the blanket and pillows around him, while Louis was still scolding him for treating him like a princess when he was _clearly_ a grown man capable of going to bed by himself. His “I’m not tired anyway!” was somewhat weakened when he scrunched up his face to suppress a yawn as soon as the words had left his mouth. 

Harry smirked and earned a punch to his arm in revenge. Still smiling, he bent down and pressed a butterfly-soft kiss to Louis’ forehead, stroking his sweaty fringe out of the way. Just when he straightened up and turned to leave, a hand grabbed his and pulled him back around. 

Louis was looking up at him with tired eyes and a sleepy, yet earnest smile. “Thank you, Haz. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Harry stared at Louis, who lay there on the bed. He seemed so tiny, so fragile, and more vulnerable than he’d ever seen him look before, and Harry had to swallow around the lump that was suddenly in his throat. 

”You won’t ever have to find out, if I have any say in it,” he croaked before quickly leaving the room and banging his head repeatedly against the kitchen door. 

He was so fucked. 

***

Living with Louis’ disease, as it turned out, wasn’t as hard as expected. Sure, he felt sick a lot, especially the week after the chemo, and he enjoyed a quiet night in now much more than ever before, but other than that, he was fine most of the time. 

He had to do chemo every three weeks and it always followed the same patter: Harry drove Louis to the hospital, held his hand the entire way through the procedure, drove him home, brought him to bed. While Louis would sleep through the next day, Harry tried to catch up with his studies at the library and came back in time to cook Louis something nice. It would most likely end up being thrown up within the next two hours, but Louis was grateful for it every time. 

Jay usually found time to come over during that time, and if she didn’t, then Niall or Zayn would. Liam was there all the time anyways, keeping Louis entertained with Fifa while Harry had classes. Louis had wanted to keep going to his classes, but when he slept through even more of his classes than he had before, his teachers and Harry convinced him to take a break until he would be recovered. No one thought of the alternative to recovery. 

The Saturday after his third chemo found Harry, Liam and Louis squished on the couch, each a controller in hand, yelling and cursing as their Fifa tournament got more and more heated. Louis had just won his second game in a row and jumped on top of the other two boys in a victory dance when there was a knock on the door. 

Harry shoved Louis off his lap and onto Liam’s where the boy landed with an indignant huff. Dodging the slap aimed at his bum, Harry opened the door and was immediately overrun by a gaggle of girls. He grinned as he felt a set of arms latch around each of his legs, ducked down to pick up Louis’ twin sisters, and spinned them around in a circle, their peals of laughter washing over him like a warm summer rain. 

They kissed his cheeks and giggled their greetings in his curls, but soon wanted to be let down to see their brother. Charlotte and Felicity have already disappeared inside the flat with a small wave and, the twins running after them, Jay finally got to come inside. She handed Harry a couple of bags and kissed his cheek before she, too, went to see her son. 

Harry was still staring out in the hallway when Louis’ pained cry that probably meant one of the twins kicked him in the balls while climbing on him shook him out of his daze and he looked inside the bags Jay had handed him. 

”God bless that woman,” he sighed and went to put up a year’s worth of food. 

As soon as all the pies, breads, vegetables, sauces and so forth had found a home in the boys’ flat, Harry joined the others in the living room. His previous spot on Louis’ right side had been taken by Lottie, the left was occupied by Fizz, and Daisy and Phoebe were sat on their brother’s lap. Louis looked a bit squished, his shirt a bit baggier than it had been before his sisters’ hands were tangled in it and his hair dishevelled, but a wide dopey smile almost split his face in two. Each of his hands clasped one of the twins’ waists as he giggled, actually fucking _giggled_ , Jesus fucking Christ, about some story or another they were telling him. 

It was downright adorable and Harry promptly took a photo of the arrangement. Louis looked up at him standing in the doorway when the flash went off and laughed. “You gonna put that on instagram, then?” 

Harry blushed a bit but grinned back. “Wouldn’t get many notes for your ugly mug, don’t flatter yourself.” Daisy dissolved into delighted giggles and stuck her tongue out to her brother, while her twin glared at Harry and said, “Lou isn’t ugly, Harry!” 

Well, Harry certainly agreed with her on that one, but nobody had to know that. Louis looked happy enough with his baby sister’s compliment and pulled her tighter with one arm, whilst he pinched Daisy’s tongue with two fingers of the other hand. 

They all seemed so happy being together again that Harry felt like an intruder. Yes, they were practically his second family, but still, it felt different now. When he made to leave the room though Louis released his sisters to throw a pillow at him. “Where do you think you’re going? Come watch a movie with us, I know how you love ‘Tangled’.” And the look on his face was so happy, his cheeks flushed from all the smiling and his eyes sparkling, so really, what was Harry to do? Saying no definitely wasn’t an option. 

***

Later that night, when Louis’ family had retreated to the hotel (because with a tiny flat like theirs, it really was the only way) the two boys were sat on the couch snuggling. Harry was on the verge of falling asleep, feeling warm and cosy with his favourite tea in his hand and his favourite boy in his arms, and when Louis poked his chest, Harry didn’t even bother to lift his head from where it rested on Louis’. He hummed though and hoped Louis would understand that this was a prompt to go on. 

”Do you think I’ll make it, Harry? Because most of the time I don’t really feel that sick, just tired and whiny, but then sometimes I.. there are so any people who died from cancer, actually _died_ , and why should it be any different with me? I just-“ 

”No, Louis.” Harry definitely was awake now. “Don’t do this, don’t think like this. You _will_ make it, you will, because you are young and you’ve never been sick and you’re strong, Lou, you have to be, okay? If not for you, for your family, they love you and you love them, and you can’t- You will survive this, Louis. I promise.” And he hadn’t even realised, but there were tears in his eyes suddenly and he had to stop talking lest he had an actual breakdown. 

”What if I can’t be strong anymore, though? I can’t always be strong, Harry.” Louis sounded so broken and so small, and how had he not noticed how pale he was and how tired he looked? 

”Then I’ll be strong for you, Lou. I won’t let you give up.” He whispered in his best friend’s hair, pressing a kiss at his forehead and holding on tight until Louis’ breath evened out. 

He fell asleep with his Louis’ hand in his and his heart ached for so much more. 

***

It was a week later, Louis’ family was long back in Doncaster, that Louis started losing his hair. It wasn’t that noticeable at first; more hair clogging up the drain after he took a shower, and whenever Harry ruffled his hair some of it would catch between his fingers. They both ignored it. 

That weekend Zayn came over. When Harry opened the door he gave him a hug; a typical Zayn-hug, all warmth and friendship and comfort. Zayn always seemed to know when Harry needed comfort, even when he tried to hide it. It could be annoying sometimes how he always knew everything but mostly Harry just loved him that much more for it. If he hadn't been completely gone for Louis, he might have even fallen in love with him. 

Zayn let go of him after a moment, but only to hold him at arm's length and intently study his face. Harry quirked and eyebrow and waited for Zayn to finish. Years of being friends with him had taught him that it was best to let the older boy finish whatever was going on in his head in his own time. 

Zayn didn't seem to find what he'd been looking for though; he shook his head and patted Harry's shoulder. "So you still haven't told him?", he said and managed to sound both incredibly exasperated and fond. 

Harry was confused. "Still haven't told what? And whom?" 

"Louis, dickhead," Zayn said as if that was obvious from his cryptic question. 

Harry felt himself flushing. He was pretty sure he knew what Zayn was talking about, even though he'd never told him. Never told anyone really. 

He decided to act dumb anyways. "What should l have to tell Lou?" 

Zayn gave him a pretty impressive eye roll. "You know exactly what I'm talking about Haz." 

Turned out today was one of Zayn's annoying days. Harry stared determinedly at a spot on the wall, right next to the door. It was brown, most likely coffee. How had they spilled coffee on the wall next to the front door? He sure didn't do it, he liked to sit comfortably in his kitchen chair for his morning coffee, thank you very much. Anyways, they'd have to paint the walls now, because Louis was too damn messy. Coffee wasn't a bad-

"Harry," Zayn interrupted his inner ramblings. Oh, yes, he'd been in the middle of a very uncomfortable conversation. "I asked you if Louis knows that you're in love with him." 

"What, that's ridiculous- I'm not in-" He shut his mouth at the look Zayn gave him. Shaking his head he mumbled, "He's got too much to worry about already. And it's not like it'd change anything if he knew." 

Zayn looked like he very much wanted to protest, but Harry peeled his hands off his shoulders and pulled him further into the flat, towards the living room. Harry grinned and said, "You, my friend, have much more exciting news than my tragic and non-existent love life anyways." Zayn gave him an unimpressed look, but Harry knew him and he saw that little interested crease between his eyebrows. He smirked. "Liam's here," he said before striding into the living room where he plopped down on the couch next to Louis and threw a pencil at Liam. "I got something for you, Li." 

Zayn turned bright red and punched Harry in the shoulder, but Liam practically beamed at his arrival and beckoned him closer with the hand that wasn’t holding the controller. Zayn sat down pressed to Liam's side with a happy smile. 

Harry thought that look on Zayn's face was worth it. 

He picked up his own controller and unpaused the game. “Oi you fucking wanker, I wasn’t prepared!”, Louis yelled and elbowed him in the side, but Harry just cackled. He was shit at video games anyways, so it wasn’t as if he’d be any more of a threat to the other boys now. 

After coming in last the third time in a row he declared the video game-time to be over and went in the kitchen to bring out beer and snacks (seriously, God bless Jay Tomlinson, there was still food left). Zayn's exclaim, "Shit, Lou, I'm so sorry!" brought him out of his reverie about Jay rather quickly though. Back in the living room, Louis was lying flat on his stomach, Zayn kneeling on top and Liam at his feet. Zayn was staring at his own hands, his face a shocked grimace. He was holding a bushel of silky brown hairs. 

***

When both Zayn and Louis had recovered from the shock Liam guided Zayn to the bathroom to throw away the hair while Harry sat down next to his best friend and hugged him tightly until he felt his heartbeat calm down against his chest. 

"Will you come with me?", Louis spoke up what seemed like an eternity later. He was still clinging to Harry but he lifted his head to look at the younger boy. His eyelashes were sticking together from tears but Louis had tried to hide those so Harry didn't comment on it. 

"Go where?" he asked instead, rubbing Louis' back in what he hoped was a comforting matter. 

Louis buried his head in Harry's shoulder. "The hair cutter," he whispered. "I guess I can't really procrastinate that any longer." 

Harry pulled him impossibly closer at the broken sound of his whisper. Louis didn't do whispering. Louis did yelling and running around and loud pranks and tackling and basically being as obnoxious as humanly possible. He wasn't quiet and Harry swore to himself that moment that he would get that Louis, the real, horribly annoying Louis back. 

"Of course I'll come with you," he mumbled in Louis' hair. "I told you, I won't let you do this alone. Any of it." And Louis smiled at him then, small but genuine and grateful and his eyes were shining and his eyelashes wet and there was a bit of stubble on his chin, a bit sparser than it would have been hadn't it been for the chemo, and suddenly he was close enough that Harry could count the freckles on his nose, felt his breath on his face. Harry knew he'd told Zayn not even 2 hours ago that he wouldn't tell Louis about his feelings, but he didn't think of that then. He couldn't think at all, not with Louis being so close and his smell was all encompassing and Harry couldn't even stop his hand from moving up and cupping Louis' neck. He stared into Louis' eyes _blue so unbelievably blue like the ocean just deeper_ but didn't find panic or rejection and he felt his own eyes flutter shut as he moved closer. 

Zayn and Liam had chosen that moment to burst into the room. Both of them had flushed cheeks and suspiciously bright eyes and usually Harry would have taken the piss. He was too busy plotting their murder right then though. 

Louis flinched back and let go of Harry as if he hadn't even realised how close they had been before. Zayn at least had the grace to look embarrassed and a bit apologetic. "We're off, guys," Liam announced. It was a testimony to how shaken up Harry still was that he didn't even say anything about the two of them leaving together. 

Louis struggled out of Harry’s embrace and hugged the other boys tightly, seeming a bit wobbly-kneed but otherwise as if nothing had happened. That’s because nothing did happen, Harry reminded himself. He couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter about it though. God, he was pathetic. 

He didn’t bother to get up and properly say good bye, just threw an empty can of diet coke at Zayn’s head and waved from his spot on the couch. Zayn gave him a look that meant he had to expect a call and a very philosophical bollocking that was only in his best interest as soon as his friend got home. Well, a few hours later, when he woke up again. 

When the boys finally left the flat Louis disappeared into his room and Harry switched on the telly. He zapped around for a bit, watched a bit of Nigella but decided it was no fun without his friend Nick, and turned it off again when there was nothing else. Twitter was boring and neither Nick nor Gemma answered any of his texts. He tried sleeping, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Louis’, how they had fluttered shut, saw his mouth opening slightly. Saw him flinching away as if he’d burned himself. 

When even two glasses of wine couldn’t put him to sleep, he gave up and knocked on Louis’ door. There was no answer, but then the lights were out, so Louis was probably sleeping. Harry went into the room anyways, lay down carefully next to his friend, and snuggled closer to him, as he’d done countless times before. He knew he should probably stop doing that if he ever was going to get over his crush, but he couldn’t help himself. There really was no place on earth where he could sleep as well as curled up in Louis’ arms, his steady heartbeat in his ear. 

He felt terrifying dread creeping in his heart as he thought about the possibility of this heartbeat leaving him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this, there will probably be like 3 more chapters for this.


End file.
